Mist B Haven

By Martha Steinhagen

I remember the day two old guys in dark suits and hats, gave me the boat. It was 1960, I was nineteen. I had just walked out of my apartment and my relationship. I had nowhere to go and twelve bucks and change in my purse. A boat big enough to sleep on, regardless of how broken down she might be, well, that was just too tempting to pass up. Broken down was an understatement. She was sinking. I climbed aboard determined to resurrect her.

But it wasn't long before the Mist B Haven's past began to catch up with her, and me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martha Steinhagen
• Release date: Dec 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9780998123714

Martha Steinhagen

Originally from Michigan, Martha has had a series of nontraditional jobs since graduating from Michigan State University. She was a printer for nine years, fished commercially, worked for a large outdoor music festival, did research for a law firm, was interim director of a battered women’s shelter, drove a delivery truck for a diaper service, an apple orchard and an egg co-op, taught elementary school, painted houses (inside and out), with the occasional bartending and waiting tables thrown in for good measure. She holds a private pilot’s license, a commercial truck driver’s license, and a U.S. Coast Guard Captain’s license.Martha spent twenty-four years in the Caribbean working as a boat captain and scuba diving instructor before recently retiring to mid-Michigan.

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Prologue

I remember the day I looked in the mirror, humming some Beatles song about 'places I remember' and noticed the lines around my eyes and mouth. It's as if they arrived overnight and etched themselves a home on my face. Not that I really minded; it just came as a surprise. Kinda like 'Hey, look what just showed up on your face!' though they hadn't just shown up. It has taken years to create them, and I guess I saw them as they gradually arrived. But this day I looked up and there staring back at me was a familiar and yet changed face. And it shocked me to realize I am over seventy and lines are part of what comes with that. At least they are if you have lived any kind of life. Or maybe not just lived it, but experienced it, felt it. Survived the waves of troubles that crash over us, the swells of love or loss or grief. They leave a mark. Not just on the inside, but on the outside as well. And Lord knows, I have lived on the sea for most of my life, so waves and swells are a part of me.

Chapter One

I didn't mean to end up with a boat the day I left Dominic. I am not sure what I thought I would do. It was as if I stepped out for the proverbial pack of cigarettes and never turned back. Only my cigarette pack was called The Mist B Haven and it floated. I was sitting in a coffee shop, the old fashioned kind with booths and a waitress in a turquoise dress with stitching that said Biff's or some such on the apron. I had a cup of coffee and a clam roll in front of me. I had been looking out the window at the boats tied up in the marina, just smoking and drinking coffee and debating about whether I really wanted the clam roll, when a voice over my shoulder said I am sick of her. I pour money and love in her and get back nothing but heart ache. I would give her away in a heartbeat but nobody will take her.

Funny way to talk about your wife or girlfriend, I thought, but then Dominic probably said much the same when he sat with his friends. I poured a little salt on the clam roll and turned and flagged the waitress for some cocktail sauce. Never could stomach that sweet weird tartar sauce they served with them. As I turned back I caught a glimpse of the two guys sitting behind me, a couple of old guys in suits and ties with their hats on the table beside them.

The non-speaker saw my look and laughed, Not a woman, girlie. He's talking about his boat. And he doesn't really mean it, he's been saying that since I've known him about one boat or another. Think he'd learn. Don't buy a damn boat! He chuckled when he said it, like it was hopeless and OK all at the same time.

Nope, this time I really mean it, Ned. I am done with the boating life.

Well, I said, picking up the clam roll, I might like to give it a try.

And that is how I ended up standing in the head looking at my face in the mirror. Oh, it wasn't quite that simple.

Ned laughed, Uh oh, Stan, girlie here is calling your bluff.

What do you know about boats, kid? the guy called Stan asked.

I liked that better than girlie, but not by much; felt like the old man was laughing at me. I know they float and apparently they break your heart.

How much money you got?

You said you were willing to give it away but nobody wanted it. Well, I do. I don't have any money.

"Everybody has some money, kid. How much you got in that purse there?"

Twelve dollars and forty-seven cents, but I gotta pay for the coffee and the clam roll.

Well, that ought to be enough to pay the dock fees for a month. You sure you want to own a boat?

Never really thought about it. How big is it?

Forty-eight foot.

Hmmm. I was trying to buy time while I figured out how big that was.

Ten booths, Ned offered. It's yours plus ours and about eight more.

Oh, my god, I could live on it! I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Oh girlie, you and several of your friends could live on it. he snorted. What, don't you have a place to stay? Not that it's any of my bee's wax.

I liked him for saying that, bee's wax. I kept quiet, not wanting to answer, not really knowing the answer. I could go home to the apartment I shared with Dominic. I hadn't told him I was leaving. He was probably wondering where I was by now. But I realized sitting there that I didn't want to go back to that apartment, to that man. I wanted a new start and this seemed like maybe it could be that. No one would think to look for me at the marina, and maybe I could take the boat somewhere else eventually.

Stan sat quiet, watching me. Pay yer bill and be sure to leave a nice tip for Lou Anne. I'll show you your new heartbreak.

The three of us walked out into the warm late afternoon sun and ambled down a series of wooden docks. Boats were tied up all along the way. There she is, Stan stopped and gestured at the boat in front of us. It sat low in the water. God damn bilge isn't working again, he muttered under his breath as he stepped over the rail and onto the deck of the boat. Follow me. You might as well learn how to fix a bilge pump and bail a boat. Especially if you are going to take over this one.

Ned lit a cigarette and sat down in a sagging, broken down deck chair. Jesus, Stan, when's the last time you were here? This thing looks like a garbage scow!

Shut up, Ned. I've been gone a while. You know that. Plus, I've been busy. Billy called to tell me I owed dock fees and that if I waited much longer I would have a permanent place on the bottom. Asshole. 'Scuse my language miss.

I had never been on a boat before. Hadn't seen the ocean till a year ago. But even I could tell this one needed a lot of work. The paint was peeling everywhere, the wood on the deck was cracked and dry, the railings were a tarnish color that I thought might be permanent. When Stan opened the cabin, the smell that oozed out was a mold, mildew, rotten food, and briny water combo. I wanted to light up to cover the smell, but Stan was moving deeper into the boat, motioning me to follow.

God, Stan! Ned was waving his hand in front of his scrunched up face. What the hell is down there?

It's a boat goddammit. They smell rotten all the time.

I hoped that wasn't true because I was having trouble not gagging.

Come on, kid, just gut it out. You'll get used to the smell in a minute. He led the way down a steep staircase into a V-shaped hallway that ended in a room with shallow bunks along both walls. Hold up while I open the hatch. And with that he lifted the floor in front of me and shone a flash light into the darkness. Shit. Water hovered about a foot from the top. Shit. OK, come on, and bring that bucket with you.

Stan moved back down the hall and pulled up another section of floor at the base of the staircase. I could see another ladder. He disappeared down it. Come on, kid, no dawdling! The smell coming out of this hole added diesel fumes to the miasma of smells already swirling around me. I felt light-headed and reached out to steady myself on the wall. My hand came away damp, sticky. The apartment was beginning to seem better and better.

Come on. Come on! Bring the bucket and get down here.

I wasn't sure how to get down the ladder with any sense of dignity, so I gave up and hiked my skirt up over my knees, swung out over the trap door and clambered down the ladder. I stepped off into three inches of water and felt it immediately begin to soak my shoes. It was very close quarters, my head almost touched the ceiling. A small aisle ran down the middle with a big engine on either side. Stan was hunched over a smaller machine. His shoes and socks were perched on the engine and his pants were rolled nearly to his knees. Here, give me the bucket. He grabbed it out of my hand, flipped it over and sat down on it. This here is the bilge pump. There are a couple of them but this is the main one and it ain't working. That's why there is so much water in the hold and why we are sitting so low in the water.

Are we sinking?

Nah. Well, maybe. If I can't get this thing running again and if you can't bail fast enough. But I think she'll be all right. Hasn't sunk yet!

He pulled a wrench off a ledge over the pump and began to open it up. Ah, see here, this wire is loose and isn't making a connection. Should be able to strip it out and reconnect it and Bob's your uncle.

Huh?

You know, everything will be Jake. A-OK, Okey-dokey.

Oh.

And it was. Stan fixed the wire and the pump started pumping and the water level dropped and the boat floated higher in the water and we didn't sink.

Chapter Two

Okay, she's no prize I admit. Stan leaned over the rail and flipped his cigarette overboard. He had rolled his pants back down and put his shoes on. I perched on the corner of a small wooden shelf along the back of the boat, water leaking out of mine. Ned still sat in the sagging chair. I let her go a bit. But she has good bones. She just needs a little TLC and a lot of elbow grease to get her shipshape again. Once you open up the salon doors and portholes, the smell will lessen and it will seem a bit nicer. Here, I'll show you around.

And he did. He referred to everything by its nautical name, the main deck and the salon, which looked like a combination living room and dining room. The galley, which was just another way of saying kitchen. The upper deck, which had the wheelhouse where the instruments and the actual wheel to steer the boat were. The foredeck, which was out in front of the wheelhouse and was totally empty. But I could imagine deck chairs and loungers scattered about. There was a very small cabin behind the wheelhouse with a narrow bed and desk for the captain, apparently.

Down below, there were two cabins. One larger one with a big bed and built in drawers and bookshelves. And the one we had been in with the bunk beds. Stan called it a V-berth, because of the way it followed the line of the hull and flared out from the floor like a V. There were two heads, bathrooms, both tiny but adequate. One in the master cabin and one on the main deck. They both were a kind of combo toilet with shower above. I guess the whole room got wet if you showered!

So what do you think, girlie? Ned asked as we returned from the tour. My eyes must have looked like saucers. He laughed. Think you want to be a seafaring gal?

I nodded, afraid my voice would give away just how much I wanted to stay right there on the Mist B Haven and never leave.

Well, if you think you can handle it, she's all yours. Stan chimed in. I think you will appreciate her and I really am done with the boating life.

Ned rolled his eyes. That will be the day! he scoffed in a friendly way.

No really, Ned. I have no more use for this thing and I would rather she be cared for than sink here at the dock because I don't come fix the bilge someday. You said yourself she stinks and looks like a garbage scow. A boat like this doesn't deserve that. She needs someone to love her and I think the kid here might fit the bill.

I nodded again, trying to look confident.

"I will stop by in a few days and sign her over to you. In the meantime, I paid the dock fee for a month. After that it's on you. There is a Captain's Log in the wheelhouse that will help you get acquainted with the boat and her systems. A copy of Chapman's Seamanship is on the shelf with it. Should cover just about anything you need to know. Otherwise you might ask Billy, the dock master, or see if one of the other boaties can help you. Good luck to you, kid."

He swung his leg over the rail and stepped up onto the dock. Come on, Ned. Leave the girl to explore.

They both tipped their hats and walked off down the pier, leaving me alone on the deck of a boat I knew nothing about but her name.

Chapter Three

My first night on board was hardly living at the Ritz. None of the beds had linens on them and the damp seemed to invade the entire boat. I huddled under a thin, mildewy blanket I found stuffed in a corner of the main cabin. But cold and uncomfortable as I was, I was also excited at the prospect of owning a boat. This boat. This big, old, broken-down boat.

The sun woke me up, that and some guy hollering hallooo the boat. I had no idea what that meant but the voice was loud and nearby. I climbed up to the main deck and peeked out the salon door to see who was shouting.

Ah, so there is someone on board! Good morning. I'm Alf. I live a couple slips down on the Swede Sea. You look like you could use some coffee. Come on over when you're ready. Dark green hull, white cabin. And that was my introduction to boatie life. I tried using the head but couldn't get the toilet to flush. Where is the handle? Ran my fingers through my hair. I could get no water from the tap to wash my face. Gave it all up, straightened my skirt and set off to find Alf's boat.

I found his boat and him four slips down from mine. He was sitting on the main deck having the most delicious smelling coffee. Come on board, I have a cup right here with your name on it. You good with regular coffee or should I go find the instant Sanka?

Regular is good with me. I sank into the most comfortable looking chair and wrapped my hands around the heavy coffee mug, grateful for the warmth.

Gets a bit nippy at night out on the water. You might want to wear a sweater when you come visit next time. We all live outside mostly.

Is that because everyone's boat smells as bad as mine?

No, he laughed. It's because boaties like to be outside looking at the water, not all cooped up inside looking at paneling or whatever. Your boat smells bad?

Like the worst root cellar you have ever been in crossed with the smell of truck exhaust.

Well, that isn't normal. Here come on inside and I will show you.

Alf crossed the deck and opened the cabin door. I hung back expecting the same sickening smell the Mist B Haven carried. I stepped cautiously over the door jam and waited to be smothered. Nothing, just coffee and a hint of lemon. Wow. It's like a lemon orchard in here.

That's the lemon oil I use on the teak. Keeps it shiny and happy.

What's teak?

That would be all the wood you see in here. This boat has a lot of it. Some don't. You want the tour?

I nodded, sipping the hot coffee.

Won't take but a minute. This is the main deck, small salon, tiny galley, nice back deck for sitting on, but you already saw that. Up the ladder is the helm station; below this deck is my cabin and the engine room. Got a little head in the cabin. And there you have it. Not much room to walk around, and you see why I like to sit outside. The view is way better and I like open space. He opened the door of the salon and stepped back outside. I liked his boat. It was small but very neat and tidy. Shipshape began to have a real meaning to me. Everything seemed to have a place. Shelves were tucked into corners and out of the way spaces. Nothing wasted. It felt cozy. And for a moment I wished for a smaller boat. Which made me laugh out loud since up until twelve hours ago I had no boat, or any plan to have one!

Alf looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. So Stan finally found someone to buy that old tub of his.

That caught me off guard. Should I tell him I had paid nothing? Would he think I was a freeloader or a con artist tricking Stan out of his boat? Had he heard Stan gave it to me and he was checking it out? Did he know I had nowhere else to go? Suddenly I wanted off this boat and away from this nice man with his warm coffee and prying questions.

Whoa, no offense meant. Everyone calls their boat a tub at some point! Didn't mean to insult you or your boat. Here warm up your coffee and set a spell.

Fortunately for me he had mistaken my panic at answering his question for offense. A bit more delay and the question might be forgotten. I poured a bit more coffee from the thermos he handed me. OK. No worries. I am a bit new to the boating world. I guess I have a lot to learn! Tub seems like a good place to start.

Yeah, I kind of figured you for a newbie.

What gave me away?

Well, most folks don't usually wear business clothes on boats.

I looked down at the once crisp white blouse and gabardine skirt, now both wrinkled and sad looking. My nylons had a run in them and my shoes were still a soggy mess from standing in the bilge water. So what do boat people wear if not business clothes?

Well, most boaties are men so they wear khakis or cutoff jeans or clamdiggers for fancy occasions, and tee shirts. Flip flops or topsiders for shoes, though mostly we all go barefoot. A good pair of RayBans and a cap of some kind. Need to keep the sun off your nose. Or it will end up looking like mine...hamburger.

Hmmm. I thought about the $9.75 I still had in my purse and my closet full of dresses and skirts at the apartment. Neither seemed likely to provide me with clothes that would fit the bill. Well perhaps I will add a more formal look to the boating world. How I was going to wash and iron my blouse when I couldn't get water to wash my hands or flush the toilet was going to present a problem. That and I didn't have a second set of clothes to wear while I washed these.

Perhaps Alf had begun to get a sense of my situation, or maybe he already knew I was here with nowhere else to go and very little money. Maybe Ned or Stan asked him to look after me. I don't know and he never told me. But he was about to help me for the first of many times over the years.

Well, you look to be the size of my first and last mate. Little bastard ran off with some of my money soon as we docked here last spring. Don't reckon he will be back for his stuff. Pardon my language, miss. Been a sailor too long not to swear every now and then. No disrespect meant.

None taken. I think if I am going to hang around with sailors, I will get used to it.

He snorted in a friendly way. Sit tight. I'll see if I can find the stuff.

When he returned, he had an arm load of clothes and a couple thick wool blankets. "This ought to set you up to start with. I know